Friday, March 07, 2014

Moscow (Part VI - The Flight)

I
bet some of you were thinking after the last post that I slept through my
alarm, but I didn't! I got up and showered and packed, and, though I was quite
stressed about having left all this for the last minute, I did make it outside
at 1:45, exactly on time. I felt
proud of myself! I'd had only one hour of sleep, and my cat was injured and in
a strange place, but I was running on time (that never happens!) and my packing
list had been incredibly useful. My suitcase was a bit overweight, but I could
solve that problem at the airport by moving a few items into my carry on (which
I did).

Once I got into the van and we pulled away from my house, I wondered what I
might have forgotten. Because everyone forgets SOMETHING! And then I realized,
I hadn't packed toothpaste. Oh well, that's not a big deal. Surely near the
hotel was a place I could buy toothpaste, maybe even at the reception desk. I
felt proud for being so organized that the only thing I could think of that I'd
forgotten was an easily-replaced toiletry item.

I went over in my mind my plan for the next few hours: Get through airport
security, change currency, sleep as much as I could on the flight, and, when I
got to Moscow, buy a sim card for
my phone. Rusina had arranged and pre-paid for a car service to pick me up, so
that would be handy. And once I was at the hotel, I'd buy access to the hotel's
wifi, let people know I'm OK, unpack and rest, and then see if there was still
time to catch a museum or something before everything closed. It was a
reasonable plan.

Except.

As I went through passport control on my way out of Ben Gurion, the very low-grade
gastrointestinal rumblings I'd been feeling for the last day or two started to
feel more desperate. I could feel my blood pressure drop and a wave of nausea
roll over me.

By the time I got to the duty-free area, where the money change store is, I was
desperate to sit down or get to a bathroom or get to my gate – I didn't much
care as long as I could crawl out of my skin. I'd have to buy rubles when I got
to Moscow. At the gate I thought
about canceling my trip – I could feel that I had a low fever, and the nausea
was getting worse – but after everything that I'd been through to plan it, not
to mention the non-refundable payments I'd made for the plane and hotel,
cancellation was not an option. I'd be fine. If I could just get to a bathroom
I'd be fine.

I spent the entire plane ride either sitting in my seat shivering, or throwing
up. Yes, I made it to the lavatory every time, but just barely. There was a
point at which a flight attendant was standing with me next to the lav, waiting
for the person in there to come out, and I was leaning against the wall, sweat
dripping down my face, moaning and silently praying that I didn't explode all
over the El Al carpeting. The situation was quite desperate. Apparently, all the energy that my body had
needed the day before to stay calm and get everything done, it had diverted
from digesting any food.

By the end of the flight, I was so completely spent I could hardly stand. I
asked the flight attendants to order a wheelchair for me to get me through the
airport, because there was no way I could walk or even stay standing to wait in
lines.

A man who spoke no English pushed me through the airport. Even if I'd had the
head space to ask him to stop to get a sim card or rubles, I didn't know how to
ask for those things in Russian.

We met the taxi driver Rusina had sent, and I got transferred into his van. It
took two hours to drive to my hotel because traffic was bad (later, on the way
back, it was just one hour). I spent most of the time sleeping, but every time
I opened my eyes, I saw ugly buildings. Moscow
looked like one vast series of housing projects, like a vast Bronx,
boxy and unredeemed.

The receptionists at the hotel did not speak English. I was transferred into my
room (which looked exactly like the pictures on the site – clean and simple and
nothing fancy but satisfactory) and I threw myself into the bed, feverish and
scared.

I was now alone and sick in a hotel room in Moscow,
with no cash and no way to reach anyone to tell them that I'm not OK.